Blinded by the Light: Drabbles

Part Eleven: Chocolate and Getaway

Blinded By The Light: Chocolate

Roger peered over his shoulder one last time as to make sure that Brian wasn't watching him, more out of habit than out of anything else; he naturally couldn't see anything with his eyes, but he hoped that glancing in the direction of the door to the living room might help him focus on the sounds coming out of that area – that was, if there were any sounds at all. He hadn't heard Brian move, cough, flick through the pages of a newspaper, or make any other sort of noise that would indicate his presence for quite some time, and the drummer was starting to wonder if he had moved over to another room. This would be unlikely, given that he would have heard it if Brian would have gone upstairs or outside, let alone if he would have come his way – not to even mention that Brian would always notify him if he was going somewhere else. Should he tiptoe over to the threshold to see if he could hear him if he was standing closer to where Brian supposedly was? Should he call Brian's name to figure out where he was?

Roger quickly decided against both these ideas, judging that all the first one might do was betraying him by raising Brian's suspicions if he heard him stumbling through the kitchen, and, worse than that, calling Brian's name was most likely to immediately result in Brian coming over to check on him, which was the last thing Roger wanted if he wanted to carry out his dirty little plan. Therefore, Roger simply hoped that Brian would stay wherever he was at the moment while he placed his fingertips on the edge of the granite countertop, hoisting himself up as soundlessly as possible. He placed his knees, first right and then left, on the countertop, and pulled himself up on the handle of the cupboard above his head. Even though he couldn't prevent a shaky moment in which he almost lost his balance, Roger was rather pleased with his skills. He had done this dozens of times before when he hadn't been able to reach something, both when he had still been able to see, and after he had lost his vision. It was quick, effective, and, as long as Brian – who had never been a big fan of this technique – wouldn't find out, a perfect strategy to reach for what he needed.

Roger carefully leant back to open the cupboard he remembered Brian usually stored biscuits, sweets, and chocolate, among some small household goods. He then reached out a careful hand to quietly roam through the contents of the cupboard; with his fingers he felt a roll of adhesive tape, a measuring cup, something that felt like pot-holders or oven gloves, and some other completely random items he did not need at the moment. He frowned and searched through the stack of coffee filters and pack of sugar cubes, hoping not to make too much noise when he started to move the items to make way for further investigation of the closet. Eventually, he felt his fingertips bumping up against the well-known biscuit tin, and he knew he was getting somewhere.

Just when Roger heard the crinkling of tinfoil right where his fingertips reached a rectangular product that led him to believe he had found what he had been looking for, two strong hands appeared from out of nowhere and placed themselves around his sides, quickly and effectively tugging his body off the countertop.

'Ah! Let me go!' Roger squealed at the unexpected touch and motion, struggling to break apart but not being let go of until both his feet had been placed back on the floor, which was probably a better solution than the being-let-go-of that Roger had pleaded for. Fingers closed around his lower arm and he was spun around so quickly that it disoriented him for a moment. He would have feared he would have tripped over his own feet, had it not been for Brian, who was holding him ever-firmly and thus prevented him from going anywhere.

'Damnit, Roger, you nearly gave me a heart attack!' Brian cried out, and Roger felt his lower arm being pulled towards Brian, a thin, lean finger soon connecting with the back of his hand and leaving a short but stinging pain behind. Roger winced shortly; not because receiving a rap on the knuckles seriously hurt, but because he naturally hadn't seen it coming. And, even more than that, he knew this was Brian's way of punishing him not so much for having broken some serious rule, but for putting himself in unnecessary danger, something he knew Brian found to be way worse. It was what Brian always did when he had found Roger using knifes, scissors, kettles, or the like without his permission or supervision; tear whatever the object of potential danger was away and giving him a warning flick against his hand as some kind of substitute to the pain he could have inflicted on himself had he cut, burned, or spilled anything over himself.